


Jesse The Eating Champion

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sports, Coach/Player Relationship, M/M, Stuffing, Weight Gain, feederism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-04 01:43:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16337336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In a world where competitive eating is one of the most lucrative sports around, Jesse McCree is down on his luck. Fresh out of prison, he doesn't know what skills he has outside of his appetite. Luckily for him, he catches a break when one Hanzo Shimada, a former pro, agrees to sign him on as a fresh-faced champion. But first he needs to learn the rules and gain some weight, and maybe catch feelings for his new coach on the way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Orphaned story. Feel free to pick it up if you'd like.

 “So. You've finished up your community service, but you still don't have a job.”

The office was strangely homey. Jesse had expected the probation officers office to be more like the social services offices when he was younger. Sterile, open, and white. Instead, the office was small, and somewhat cluttered with papers. Ms.O'Deorain was Jesse's probation officer, with a lilt of Irish to her accent and a no-nonsense look in her eye. Jesse was honestly terrified of her, but he didn't like to show it.

“Got an interview, after this...” the young man replied, his own accented tinged with a southern twang even prison hadn't been able to knock out of him.

Jesse McCree was 27 years old, but he still felt young and stupid. More importantly, until he had a stable job and proved he could make it out here in the real world, he was going to be seeing Ms. O'Deorain once every fortnight, which was a daunting idea to say the least. The way she looked at him made him feel like a lab rat.

“You don't look like you're about to go to an interview.” she replied tersely. “In fact, someone should have told you that you should dress in business wear to your meetings with me.”

Jesse felt eyes piercing through him. No one had told him, and even if he had known it wasn't as if he had money to spend on new clothes. He only had what he'd had when he was a teenager, and that was his leather jacket, a few pairs of pants, and three t-shirts, all black or red, and his hat.

”It's... sort of a casual job.” he replied to save face.

“Well, good luck with that. You passed the drug test, that and the community service is all I care about right now. Come back in two weeks or we'll send out a warrant.” the woman rattled off quickly, dismissing Jesse with her eyes.

He went straight from the probation office to his 'interview'. He hadn't been completely honest, but if this did pan out he would be able to make plenty of money, and it wasn't like any other places he'd applied to were jumping for chances to hire a felon right now. He'd seen more than one place throw his application in the trash as soon as they read it. Not exactly polite, but he could respect the honesty of it, a little.

Once he had made it to the right address he glanced at the door and knocked a few times. One of his roommates had tipped him off to a job in the paper after seeing how fast he could eat.

**Open Call For Minor-League Competitive Eaters**

**MLCE-Certified Trainer**

**Details provided upon acceptance**

The ad was small, and in the paper, which made Jesse feel like he might be in a small group of people who saw it. The good news was he'd also barely eaten in three days- not exactly by choice, but he was really hoping that it would give him an edge.

The condo was in a nice part of the neighborhood, which McCree should have expected, but he hadn't. He knocked on the door of the home listed in the ad, only now realizing how sketchy this could be perceived. Why someone's home, rather than an office? The man on the phone had sounded professional enough, though.

When a man opened the door McCree noted that they were around the same age, but this man had more pepper in his hair and goatee. Maybe he was a few years his elder. He was Asian, and looked... stern. The other man also adjusted himself to stand up straighter, as if he realized how much taller Jesse was and didn't care for it.

“Howdy. I'm... here about the ad? The person on the phone said-”

“Yes. Come in.” Hanzo said sharply. He didn't have time for pleasantries, and he never liked them much to start with.

As the eyes scanned over him, Jesse felt a sinking in his stomach. The voice on the phone had been friendlier, and didn't have this accent. He must have spoken to an assistant, because this man had a strong air of 'boss'. Jesse probably didn't stand a chance. He wasn't even slightly chubby, he was practically a skeleton. He always wanted to look like the guys in the competitions, but it wasn't realistic for normal people, let alone Jesse. First his meals were tightly regimented, and now unless someone else bought him something or he went to a shelter he wouldn't get anything to eat. He was practically frail. His clothes from before jail were practically swimming on him.

In his head he had imagined he'd be walking into a small place and he'd compete in a little miniature contest. He had saw himself maybe winning that because he was so hungry, and maybe then they'd train him and he'd have free meals for a bit. That's really what had sold him on this insane idea. That and the fact that his roommate said he had a pretty face so he might be popular.

He had dreams of grandeur, of course. Maybe he'd really make it. End up rich and famous and on the cover of magazines, with a big belly and a trophy case like... well, like the one he saw in this room now. His eyes studied all the medals, and then the man in front of him. Hanzo looked solid, but not big around the middle. Maybe the outfit he was wearing was deceiving, all pinstriped and tight. The vest alone probably cost more than anything Jesse had ever owned.

"What's the name of the handler and organization you've been working under before this? How long has it been since you entered a competition?"

Jesse's eyes widened and he felt a flush brush over his cheeks.

“I, uh... I don't have a handler or organization. Never have.” he admitted. “Far as competitions go...”

Jesse hesitated, but only for a moment. No point in hiding it. He would have to check off the box on the application anyhow.

“They ain't got a lot of those in prison.” he continued. “But I can hold my own! I can eat more than it looks, if you give me a shot.”

The corners of the trainers mouth turned down, and Jesse offered a lopsided smile. His charm was all he could rely on these days, but he was getting the strangest feeling that this fella wasn't so easily swayed. The stern eyes stayed focused on him for a long while before the man spoke again.

“Prison?” he asked. Jesse gave a terse nod.

“Yes, sir.” he said, keeping his eyes up. He didn't want to look ashamed. “Got out bout six months back.”

There was another long silence, and Jesse was about to try and break the tension when the trainer spoke up again.

The silence was daunting, but Jesse managed to smile through it. Finally the smaller man unfolded his arms and gestured to the left.

“Strip down to your underwear and get on the scale in the corner."

Despite the sudden nature of the command, Jesse took it in stride. Along with a lack of eating competitions, prison also had a stunning lack of privacy. He tugged his shirt up and over his head, revealing his lanky body. His ribs jutted out more than he'd like, and what little stomach he did have was soft and concave. He did his best to stick his stomach out a little bit- knowing if he did it too far the trainer would know he was faking it. To top it off, Jesse had very little even close to muscle in him, making him soft to the touch on his stomach and arms. His thinness almost outclassed the scars peppered throughout his body. He was of the mindset that he looked better with his shirt and jacket on.

“Your jeans, too.”

“You, uh.... you sure about that, partner?” Jesse asked, peeking up from below the hat before he removed it and put it on top of his shirt on the chair nearby. “Y'might stand ta get more of an eyeful than you reckoned for.”

A reaction. Finally. The trainers cheeks flared, just a bit, and he turned his eyes away.

“Fine. We will adjust the number going forward if you are chosen.”

As Jesse stepped onto the scale he looked down, curious himself. It had been a long while since he'd been weighed. He felt disappointed when the number “147” came up.

“You are over six feet tall, are you not?” the trainer asked, incredulous. Jesse nodded. “You are underweight. Severely underweight.”

The cut in his tone made Jesse nervous.

“Don't that just mean I'm hungrier?” he asked, trying to smile through it. The trainer did not.

"Put your arms over your head," he said simply without explanation. His tone made Jesse feel like the man had done this a lot.

The trainer pulled the tape measure around Jesse's upper arm, then jotted the number down on the brunette's skin, right over the freckles there. Then he knelt to wrap the tape around Cleo's stomach, pushing into it a few times to test its softness, then glaring up at the man.

“Stop pushing it out.” he ordered sternly.

Jesse did as he was told instantly as the man went back to measuring it and scribbling the number to the left of the young man's belly button. The same process was repeated for Hanzo's waist, hips, and thighs. Hanzo could see very well that the numbers were low, but the trainers expression didn't give much away about what he was thinking. If anything, he just looked impatient, wasting no time in his movements.

Finally the man pulled back.

“Why do you want this job?” the trainer asked.

That shouldn't have caught Jesse off-guard. It was an interview. He should have an answer ready for something like that, shouldn't he? And yet.

“Don't figure I'm special in that regard.” Jesse said. “Doesn't every kid want to be a champion? I read the magazines, watched the pay-per-views when I could. And I'm good at it. I can eat, even if it don't look like it.”

There was a hesitation before Jesse took his shirt.

“Look. I know I'm a rail. I don't look like much, but I've got heart. I'm hungry- like I said. I want this.” he said, his tone growing more serious than he had allowed it thus far. “How do I prove that?”

The trainer raised his brow, his eyes scanning over Jesse's body, studying the numbers he'd written there. Jesse tugged his shirt on to hide them.

As Jesse put on his hat once more, the trainer spoke up.

“Follow me.” he said quickly, and Jesse barely managed to slip his jacket on fast enough to keep up. He did catch sight of a newspaper clipping on the wall.

**Hanzo Shimada: Rising MLCE Champ**

In the picture, Jesse could definitely recognize the face. Hanzo was younger, but not by much. He wasn't able to observe much as he followed the trainer into the other room. Just enough to at least finally know the mans name. The next room was the kitchen, as clean and proper as the front, with a table sitting in the center. All of the appliances looked new, with that shiny chrome material that Jesse associated with rich folks.

One of those appliances was a large refrigerator, which Hanzo opened.

“Cherry, apple or blueberry?”

“What now?”

“Pie. I have all three.” Hanzo said simply, gaze moving back over to Jesse.

“Oh. Uh. Apple, then.” Jesse responded awkwardly, moving to the table. Hanzo was not a man of many words, clearly, but Jesse could guess this next part from context.

He was not able to guess that Hanzo was going to take out five boxes, each with a pie inside, and set them in front of one of the chairs. He then fetched a fork and set it down next to the pile.

“Sit. Eat.”

“You just... have this much pie sittin' around in three flavors?” Jesse asked as he sat, the shock in his voice evident.

“You are not the first to make it this far.” Hanzo said simply, sitting back in his chair. “Pie is easy to keep on-hand.”

Jesse flipped the box opened. Even the box looked fancy. Thick cardboard, french name for the bakery on the top. The inside followed the same idea. The pie inside looked immaculate. Almost too good to eat. Fortunately for Jesse that was far from the case. He was starving. Three days of bare-minimum food, and he'd always had a sweet tooth.

This was it, Jesse decided, staring at the pies in front of him. This was the only way he would be able to prove he deserved this. He picked up the fork and gave Hanzo a little nod before digging in.

“Not gonna lie, I'm so hungry my belly thinks my throat's been cut.” he said before the first bite. He swore he might've just barely seen a hint of a smile on the trainers face as he crossed his arms again.

He wasn't too proud to show how much he enjoyed the fancy pie. It was crisp and chewy and sweet and perfect. He didn't care that Hanzo was watching- and boy was he watching. Jesse didn't think the guards watched the prisoners as closely as the sharp-dressed man watched him eat. He tried to make sure not to make a mess, but he was far more focused on the sweet treat in front of him. It was so rich and perfect.

One pie in, and his stomach was full. Two pies in, and he felt a little bloated. Three pies in past 'a little'. Four... he started to worry he might be in trouble. He brought his hand down to his waist, feeling it out. His concave stomach wasn't so concave anymore. It bloated out into a hard ball. With no fat or muscle there, it was easy to feel how bloated with pie he was.

“Are you done?” Hanzo asked, raising a brow. Jesse met his eyes.

“Not... on your life.” he managed, suppressing a belch. He took another bite- chewed, swallowed, and groaned.

By the time he finished the last pie, Jesse was honest-to-goodness sweating from the trial. Thankfully all of his clothes had started loose, but that didn't keep him from feeling uncomfortable. He groaned and leaned back in his chair, licking some of the sweet apple and sugar from his lips as another belch forced out. He looked a mess, but he finished. He glanced over to Hanzo, offering the same lopsided smile.

Hanzo was still just as stoic as when Jesse finally finished. His eyes looked like they were drilling through him as they studied every inch of the potential applicant. For his part, Jesse tried to sit up a little straighter once he realized he'd seemingly failed to impress.

“Don't I... ngh.... get a round of applause?” Jesse asked sarcastically, slipping his hand under his shirt to rub at his stomach better. “I can eat more, if you want.”

He felt ridiculous, practically doubled over and sweating from the exhaustion eating had brought him, sitting beside this man who seemed so put-together. Hanzo's house was neat, his suit was pressed, his hair was perfect. He looked like a damn movie star while Jesse looked every bit the half-homeless felon he was.

“Mr. McCree, correct?” Hanzo asked, pulling Jesse out of his thoughts. “Let me.”

Hanzo moved forward and wrapped his arm around Jesse, his shoulder hooking under the taller mans arm and his free hand moving straight to his stomach. It was so practiced and efficient. His face stayed neutral, and Jesse had the distinct impression that this was all professional. On Jesse's end, his face flushed bright red when he felt the strong hand hold his stomach steady while he was pulled to his feet. He grunted and groaned, letting himself lean against Hanzo (practically over him, considering McCree had a good five inches on the other man).

"This way." Hanzo said sharply, leading Jesse back to the front of the condo.

This time instead of the scale they moved to the couch and the smaller man helped ease Jesse down. He tried to just sit, but Hanzo's strong arms arranged him until he was lying on his side, panting softly.

"Nn... thanks. Feel fat as a tick." Jesse managed. He tended to turn up the 'southern charm' when he felt vulnerable. Not being able to stand on his own sparked that. "Guess I don't much look it, though."

"Not yet." Hanzo said softly, and Jesse's eyes perked up.

"Oh yeah?" Jesse asked. "That mean I got the job?"

The nod was barely perceptible, but Jesse saw it, and his heart jumped into his throat. He wanted to celebrate, to jump up and down, but that would be a bad idea in his current state.

“Well I'll be damned.” he said breathlessly, petting his overfilled stomach. “So what's next?”

Jesse noticed for the first time how the mans watch seems to be hiding a hint of a tattoo that's sticking out from his shirt. A sleeve, maybe? That's interesting. Everything here seemed so clean and proper, including Hanzo himself. He didn’t seem like the type to have a tattoo.

“You rest.” Hanzo said seriously. He waited, probably recognizing that Jesse liked to sneak in snide comments here and there, but the taller man was too busy nursing his full stomach to quip. “I will get the paperwork together. You will be living here from now on.”

“I will?” Jesse asked, looking around the place. It was huge.

“Training will begin as soon as you are moved in.” Hanzo went on, barely acknowledging the baffled question. “We will need to focus on your speed and capacity, as well as making sure your weight increases at a decent rate.”

“No one... hic... likes the skinny competitors.” Jesse noted with a smile. “I gotcha.”

“We will be working up to eight thousand calories per day.” he continued, giving a patient nod. “Come tomorrow at seven in the morning. We will reimburse you for moving expenses.”

Jesse laughed.

“Mighty -hic- kind of ya.” he said, shaking his head. “But I ain't got much, an' it won't cost a dime to walk it here.”

Hanzo narrowed his eyes.

“Where are you living now, Mr. McCree?”

“You know. Here and there.” Jesse said with an easy smile, cheeks going slightly pink. He said 'you know' as if someone like Hanzo would have any idea, knowing he probably didn't. “Got a few friends. Don't like to overstay my welcome, they all have their own things to deal with...”

Hanzo studied him for a moment, and for the first time Jesse got the feeling the man was looking at him instead of through him. They met eyes and Jesse saw a flicker of... something. Pity, probably.

“Don't worry about me none.” he said, giving the trainer a wink and trying to laugh it all off. “Sleep indoors more often than not. Think I have a spot lined up for ton-”

“Unacceptable.” Hanzo said sharply, shaking his head. “There is a room prepared. You will sleep here.”

Before Jesse could respond Hanzo turned away, slipping a phone out of his back pocket. Since his attention was directed to it, Jesse let himself enjoy the view. His backside was nice. Full, round. The slacks were clearly tailored and made it look just wonderful. He only eavesdropped on the conversation long enough to realize Hanzo was asking someone to send over 'the papers' and to set things up for tomorrow.

When Hanzo turned back to him he glanced over to a far door and then back to Jesse. Seemingly debating whether it was worth it to move the younger man now. He let out a long breath through his nose and Jesse smiled.

“Want me to get out of your hair, then?” Jesse asked shyly.

“No.” Hanzo said, his voice taking on a slightly softer tone. “Stay there until your stomach settles. I can work around you.”

Jesse nodded and moved both hands to his stomach. There wasn't enough stomach to really require both hands, but it felt nice that way. His stomach felt so stretched and full, and he was certain it would for at least a few hours. He groaned and squirmed into a more comfortable position on the couch while Hanzo moved to the seat in the far corner.

He watched Hanzo through the side of his eyes as the man settled in. Did the trainer really wear a three-piece suit just for working in his own house? McCree figured if he had an outfit that made him look so dapper, maybe he'd want him to wear it around the house too.

Apparently whatever work Hanzo was doing involved a lot of tapping at a tablet screen with narrowed eyes. Sometimes he would look more frustrated than others, but he never looked all that pleased. Jesse eventually felt creepy for staring and leaned back, pulling his hat down over his eyes.

 


	2. Chapter 2

He must have slept for a bit following that, because when he finally woke up he heard sizzling and smelled the intense scent of bacon in the air. His eyes opened beneath the rim of his hat and he reached up to push it up, only to feel his hand tangle in a blanket. He blinked, confused by all of this for a moment, and then his memory caught up. He slipped his hand out from under the blanket and then lifted his hat, sitting up on the couch. The blanket was thick, and considering Jesse couldn't remember the last time he had a blanket large enough to cover him from chin to toe, it was a nice change. Still, this meant he must have slept for a long, long while.

After gathering his thoughts the man stood up and slipped on his jacket, following the scent of food. It smelled so good, and his stomach felt empty again. On his way, he passed a clock that read 4:30.

Maybe he hadn't overslept? Was Hanzo making breakfast for dinner...?

“Good morning.” he heard as he turned the corner, confirming that this was most likely morning. Early morning. Very, very early morning.

Hanzo was standing in front of a chromatic oven, nudging at a pan of bacon. And eggs. And a boiling pot. And... fish? For a moment Jesse felt confused about the time all over again, but he wasn't given much time to think it over.

“In the near future, breakfast will be rare.” Hanzo said, keeping his eyes on the pans. His hands were moving quick, tending to the various foods. “You need to gain weight, so we have to slow your metabolism. However, you did sleep through dinner. Today is an exception.”

Jesse nodded and wandered in, giving a sheepish smile.

“Sorry 'bout that. Guess my stomach got the better of me.”

“Sleeping after meals is acceptable.” Hanzo said, shooing Jesse away. “We will go over all of that after you eat. Go sit down.”

Jesse frowned and glanced back over the food again. He wasn't sure he much cared for being waited on, but he wasn't prepared to argue with his new... boss? Boss, probably. Not now.

“I hear ya.” he said, giving a nod. “I'll... be in the other room, then.”

Within twenty minutes, McCree was sitting behind four plates. Omelets, bacon, rice, sausage, and pancakes. Across from him, Hanzo had the fish and rice and nothing else.

“Ah, Mr. Shimada, I know I'm meant to be eatin' more, but... your breakfast is lookin' pretty scarce...” he said, tilting his head to the side a bit as he looked over Hanzo's small plate.

Hanzo hesitated for a moment, glancing from his tablet up to Jesse and then down to their respective meals. He seemed to adjust himself, just a bit, to sit up slightly straighter. Good. More proper, just what the man needed to be.

“Won't you be hungry later on?”

“Unlikely.” Hanzo responded, glancing back to his tablet. “You are the one meant to be gaining, not me. Make sure to eat everything. Your new diet starts today.”

Jesse frowned but nodded, keeping an eye on Hanzo as he ate. It was like a mirrored version of the previous day, only Hanzo picked at his meal slowly, reading and typing all the while. He did finish the plate, so at least Jesse didn't have to worry much. Really he knew he shouldn't be asking too many questions. He'd somehow lucked into this gig, he could manage to tear it all down if he stepped too far out of line.

He finished his own meal around the same time as Hanzo. He wasn't nearly as full as the previous night, but his concave stomach did bow out from his torso. He leaned back and rubbed his stomach back and forth a few times, waiting for his trainer to notice he'd finished. Of course once he did, he just gave Jesse a stern nod and began to clear the plates.

“I can help with that.” Jesse said, moving to stand up himself. “It don't feel right, you feedin' and cleanin' up after me.”

Hanzo shook his head.

“I'm only collecting the plates. Someone will be in to wash them soon.” Hanzo said, moving to the kitchen.

Probably should have guessed. McCree waited, not sure what to do with himself until Hanzo got back. Once the man did return he sat back down across the way and glanced over Jesse with those sharp eyes.

“Let's get started. First we will go over your schedule.” Hanzo tapped his tablet, moving it just into view enough for Jesse to see it. After realizing how long the table was he huffed and walked around to keep the other man from standing, scooting nearer to him in the chair to the left of him. Once he got a good look at the tablet, Jesse's eyes widened.

Jesse was not a stranger to schedules. He went to school for a long while, until he dropped out. After that he was fairly loose with his time, but jail definitely had a strict clock, and if you weren't where they wanted you to be when they wanted you to be there you were in for a whooping.

Hanzo's schedule looked more demanding than either of those, especially as it sunk in that this '5 AM' schedule was going to stick.

“Mornings are for exercise. Muscle building, mostly, with a day of cardio once a week.” the trainer began, looking from McCree and then down to his tablet and back again. “We wake at five. Skipping breakfast and working out instead will slow down your metabolism, as I said earlier. You will eat at eleven, and by that point you will be hungry.”

McCree gulped, but nodded along. He wanted this. He still did. Five in the morning and all.

“Lunch is your major meal each day. Some days, we will run drills to prepare you for competition. Most days, it will simply be a large meal with many calories.” Hanzo continued. “After that, you will rest for three hours. Most likely you will be sleeping, but so long as you are lying back it will be fine. That will allow your meal to digest and add to your girth, though for the first few weeks I will wake you sporadically to top you off and keep your stomach at maximum capacity, which will stretch it.”

It started vague. Jesse could probably blame it on how full he was, or how close Hanzo was, but he felt a strange heat rush over him as they were talking. He kept one hand on his stomach as the trainer continued.

“After your rest, that is when we will schedule any events. Interviews, meet-and-greets, photo ops. Of course that will not be for some time. Until then, it will be free time for you, within reason.” Hanzo elaborated. “You can not move too much. Your morning exercises are planned specifically to maintain health with the assumption you will be eating and resting for the remainder of the day.”

There it was again. That heat. But this time it wasn't as vague. Jesse nodded and did his best to stay focused on the schedule, running his thumb up and down his stomach absentmindedly.

“You are free to eat during this time. We may arrange for a mid-afternoon meal, if you don't grow fast enough. At eight, there will be another large meal before you sleep for the night. On Sundays you may sleep in, but your diet plan stays the same. We will start at five thousand calories and track upwards, working towards eight thousand for now.” Hanzo said, seemingly unaware how the conversation was effecting his recruit. “Most champions eat between fifteen and twenty thousand calories a day. That is where you will be, once we've trained you enough.”

Trained you enough. More like once he's fat enough. Jesse bit his lip, and put together what was happening. It didn't take a genius. All Hanzo was talking about what eating and getting bigger. McCree had always had interest in the sport, particularly the bigger guys, but everyone did. They were icons, after all... maybe Jesse had picked up a fanzine here or there back in high school when they were popular, read an erotic story or two, but he'd mostly forgotten about that time in his life.

Apparently some things didn't stay buried. He did his best to stay sitting up straight and prayed that his new trainer didn't catch the tell-tale signs of arousal. Even so, he needed to get out of this situation quickly.

Jesse needed to get out of this situation, and fast. If he'd known this was a problem, maybe he could have prepared for it. Started thinking about kittens and nuns and things like that before any of the talk about gaining started. Now it felt too late and his internal body temperature was shooting off the charts, he was sure Hanzo noticed.

“Hey, uh... Mr. Shimada, would you mind if I swung by to see my room before we get goin'?” he asked, trying desperately to jump ship. “I don't got much, but I could put my jacket and hat in there...”

“You can also change.” Hanzo added, and then tilted his head slightly at the odd look he received. “I sent my assistant out to pick you up some clothes.”

Jesse was gobsmacked for a moment. There was a half-second where he wondered how the hell this man knew his size- until he remembered the measurements from yesterday. Before Jesse had time to react, Hanzo was standing and moving to the living room. From there, he opened one of the doors across the way.

“This will be your bedroom. Feel free to do with it as you wish, but it will be cleaned with the rest of the house.”

The room was big. Jesse wasn't so naive to not see that coming. He was used to small, cramped places but this was a decent-sized room, what would have been considered a living room back home. It was also rather empty. There was a large bed in the center with a puffy white comforter and matching pillows. A television mounted on the wall across from that. A closet on the far end, and a white shaggy carpet on the floor. There was another door on the other side of the room that clearly lead to a bathroom that looked to be just as opulent.

The only thing in the small room that stood out much at all was the minifridge that took the spot where most people would keep a bedside table. That threw Jesse for another confusing emotional loop. A fridge? Really? That's what his body was reacting to now? He needed to get away from these feelings, and fast.

“Your clothes are in the closet. Feel free to change and become acclimated. The papers for you to sign are beside your bed, read through them when you have a chance.”

The door closed, and Jesse was left feeling dizzy. Everything was happening so fast, sudden changes all over the place, and he was getting turned on by the idea of over eating. It was too much. Once he gathered himself enough to toss his hat and jacket on the bed he went to check the closet.

As he looked over the clothes, Jesse was shocked to realize they look... Nice. Things he would wear. Comfy jeans. Flannel tops. Some leather belts. He'd expected more generic clothes, like tshirts, probably sweats because he was meant to be gaining weight, but these were great.

It occurred to him, quickly, that someone had to ask for clothes like these. Someone who noticed how he spoke and acted. Maybe someone who realized that Jesse's hat was the only item he owned that he tried to keep on his person at all times. This whole time Hanzo had been so serious and official, Jesse hadn't pegged him for being the sort to care about what clothes McCree would actually prefer to wear.

After changing, he spent a moment lying on his back on the bed. He took deep breaths and allowed his blood to cool, quickly deciding that he would satisfy whatever feelings he had later tonight.

When he read the numbers in the contract, his head spun. He had never seen numbers that high referring to money. Not money for him, anyhow. Sure it wasn't the millions the pros get, but it was nothing to spit your gum at, either. There was a substantial salary, and then a percentage of winnings from tournaments. Pages upon pages on expectations for photo shoots, brand deals, public appearances... A slew of rules for what he should do during those events. Jesse read through all of it twice before he finally signed it.

There is was, in black and white. Maybe he was inexperienced, maybe he would fail, but for right now he was officially in the MLCE. He took a deep breath and went back out into the front room with renewed determination. It took him a moment to find Hanzo. The man was in the dining room, still glued to his tablet.

Jesse stepped into the room and adjusted his new shirt. His clothes fit perfectly, which was nice and also a little surprising given how thin and tall he was. He wondered if they just went to a specialty store of if they had them tailored to fit. Either way it was a nice change from things either riding up his body or sliding off his hips.

“Hey, Mr. Shimada. Thanks for the clothes.” Jesse said softly. He tipped his hat and moved to sit down across from the other man. “I didn't expect you to figure out I liked flannel so much.”

Hanzo glanced up, eyes scanning Jesse for a moment. He seemed to approve of what he saw, because his eyebrows didn't furrow the way they did from time to time while he looked at his tablet. He gave a curt nod.

“I wanted you to feel comfortable, though I will admit there are some ulterior motives.” Hanzo said softly, sitting up straighter in his seat. “We can discuss that later. For now, is there anything else you require?”

McCree cocked his head to the side, trying to discern any clue what Hanzo might be hinting at, but he was a tough one to read. He gave a soft chuckle and shook his head.

“Your poker face is mighty strong, Mr. Shimada.” he expressed softly, feeling a bit more free to act like himself now that the paperwork was signed. “I can't imagine what ulterior motives my clothes could have.”

Hanzo adjusted his tie and shook his head.

“Later.” he promised.

“Alright then.” Jesse said, tipping his hat. He waited for Hanzo to say anything else, but the silence that followed showed the other man was fine to let things hang there.

Once Jesse realized whatever conversation he would have with Hanzo would be rather one-sided, he decided to go back to his bedroom and rest off breakfast. He couldn't sleep after passing out for as long as he did, but have access to his own television was a rarity. Sometimes if he was crashing on a friends couch he'd be able to watch it late at night, but that was incredibly rare. He channel surfed for a little while before landing on Jeopardy and tucking one arm behind his head as he leaned back to watch.

He liked answering the questions. He knew most of them, except the more recent media-related ones, and there weren't many of those. He didn't even realize that he'd left the door open a crack until he was a handful of episodes in.

“Who is Doc Holiday.”

”Who is Doc Holiday?”

Ding ding ding

“Good job.”

Jesse jumped and glanced over to the door, spotting Hanzo leaning against the frame, all smooth and pristine like his house. Just once he'd like to see the man without the vest. Maybe one day he would.

“You've gotten five right while I've been standing here. You have a wide span of knowledge.”

McCree blushed.

“Aw, shucks. Not that much.” he admitted. He almost went on to say there's a lot of time to read in jail, but held his tongue. Best not to bring that up twice in as many days.

“It's time for lunch. I know you ate breakfast, but we are going to be stretching your limits starting now.” Hanzo warned, gesturing Jesse to follow him. Jesse jumped up and did so, earnestly eager to get started.

“Good. Don't much like feelin' like a freeloader.” he said as they made their way to the dining room.

The food that was sitting on the table was beyond unfamiliar to Jesse. For most of his life, McCree was a fast food sort of guy. Dollar menu things. The most value to fill his stomach without access to a kitchen. But if Jesse could chose a good meal, he would pick old fashioned favorites. Steak and potatoes. Cornbread. Things that made him think of home.

This was not 'think of home' food. Not his home, anyway. He suspected his trainer may feel differently, based on the rice and fish and what he did actually recognize to be sushi. It all looked so... high class. Like Hanzo.

“I apologize for the cuisine. I had to work within my sphere of knowledge. The chef will not be in until tomorrow.” Hanzo said softly. He sat down to the side of Jesse's 'seat' rather than his usual chair across the table, and it finally clicked to the rookie that there was no second plate. Clearly either Hanzo had already eaten or planned to later on. “I am more practiced with Japanese dishes.”

“Well I'll be.” Jesse gawked, his eyes scanning over the food with trepidation as he sat down. “Didn't know my coach was a chef, too. I may not know much of it, but it looks delicious.”

Even so... there was a lot of it. Definitely more than five pies worth.

“Tonkatsu donburi- fried pork over rice. Tempura sushi- fried shrimp, no raw fish. Kare raisu- curry rise. That one has spice in it, you will have to be able to handle that over time.” Hanzo said, gesturing to various dishes. “Korokke- fried mashed potatoes. Gyoza- dumplings.”

That was all of the food around one much larger bowl, which looked to Jesse very much like a Japanese version of Kitchen Sink Soup. He saw shrimp, chicken, bacon and a slew of vegetables. He swore he even spotted a mushroom on top.

“Chankonabe.” Hanzo told him when he saw the mans eyes on the pot. “Sumo stew.”

McCree gulped, looking down to the table in front of him. Thankfully he saw a fork and spoon- he didn't want Hanzo to watch him fumble around like an idiot with chopsticks. Despite how unfamiliar he was with the food, it smelled tantalizing.

“Where should I start?” he asked.

“It won't matter, you will be eating all of it. We won't be timing you this time.”

Jesse flushed and nodded, deciding to reach for the closest bowl, the one with white rice and fried pork. It was also the most familiar dish he could see. He gave Hanzo a little nod before taking his first bite. It was incredibly delicious for something so plain. The outside was golden and crispy, but the pork within was so tender that some of the juice nearly dribbled down his chin. He caught it with his tongue and then followed it with a bite of rice. He continued like this until he finished the first bowl, only flagging when Hanzo spoke up.

“How are you feeling?” he asked in a low voice.

Thus far, he'd only been watching, studying. His gaze had been starting to make Jesse feel the same as he did during his parole meetings, but when he was asked after his well-being he felt a little better about the situation. Hanzo was a tough nut to crack, but if he were all business, would he have cared enough to ask?

There was a moment when Jesse debated lying. He wanted to do a good job so much, but when he met Hanzo's eyes that idea tumbled out of his head. Firstly, Jesse is a terrible liar. Secondly... he felt like Hanzo would know.

“I gotta admit, I'm already feelin' a little full over here.” he said, feeling guilty as he did so. “But don't worry about me none. I can push through it.”

Hanzo nodded and moved the dumplings closer to McCree, nodding his head towards them.

“Do not rush through it. The stew is on a hot pot, and the food can be warmed up.” the well-dressed man told him. “This is your first time. We are not timing this meal because it will more than likely take you a handful of hours to complete it.”

Jesse felt a rush of relief at those words, sneaking one hand up his shirt and moving the other to nab one of the dumplings. He popped the whole thing into his mouth, moaning as he bit it open and tasted a rush of pork and cabbage. After he swallowed it, he went for another.

“Be harder if the food weren't so good.” he said. “Didn't know I liked this kinda stuff. You are really talented.”

Hanzo scoffed and turned his eyes away.

“I _am_ a trainer.” he said in an attempt to undercut the compliment. “Tomorrow the chef will begin making your meals, I am certain you will find them more to your liking.”

McCree chuckled and shook his head, giving his hat a small tip.

“I dunno about that, Mr. Shimada.” he said. He refused to back out of the compliment, even if Hanzo wanted to sweep it under the rug. It was kind of cute, though, the way Hanzo looked away. Had he gotten under his skin a little? He hoped so.

He finished off the dumplings, just barely. His stomach felt so heavy. He gulped and looked down at his stomach, leaning back. He was still skinny, but the bulge around his middle was accentuated by the plaid flannel it was clothed in. It helped that the clothes actually fit him now. He leaned back and tried to stifle a belch.

Hanzo studied Jesse for a few moments, taking in the heavy breaths and soft grunts leaving the man with every movement. After a moment, he spoke up.

“Would you like me to teach you how to ease your stomach?” he asked. Jesse glanced over and quickly nodded.

“I'd appreciate that.” he managed a wobbly smile, and Hanzo nodded back. McCree thought that, maybe, he saw the expression on the other man soften just a bit.

“Try to push down on your stomach. Gently.” Hanzo said. “Imagine you are pushing down the food.”

Hanzo demonstrated against his vest, and Jesse's eyes followed the movement. Mr. Shimada wore so many layers, it was almost impossible to imagine what his actual body looked like beneath the suit. He must have been thin, though. Maybe muscular? For an ex-champion, he didn't have much of a stomach, especially considering how thick his backside and thighs were. He even looked a little soft in the face, even though he tried to hide and sharpen that with his styled facial hair-

“Not like that.” Hanzo interrupted his thoughts, leaning forward.

Before Jesse realized what was happening, a pair of hands were on his stomach. Hanzo was wearing gloves, but that didn't keep McCree's face from brightening as the hands gently pressed against the top of his stomach and brushed downwards.

“For now your thumbs will be enough force, but when there is a layer of blubber you will use the heel of your palm to apply the pressure.” Hanzo instructed. Jesse didn't blame him for missing the how red his cheeks were, considering the coach's eyes were glued to his stomach. “Pay attention, you will need to do this yourself during competitions. I won't be able to help you.”

Jesse nodded urgently and tried. He really did, but even through gloves the touch felt intimate. Not to mention the words leaving Mr. Shimada's mouth were making him feel a heat beyond that rushing to his face.

After a few moments of lovely hands on his middle, Jesse felt himself giving in to Hanzo's stomach rub, letting out small belches and grunts every so often. For a moment, he forgot he still had more food to eat, but his coach was quick to remind him.

“Are you ready to continue, Mr. McCree?”

There was a soft chuckle from the cowboy and he gave a nod, moving to sit back up. He reached for the nearest dish and got started, but before he took the first bite he smiled to Hanzo.

“You can call me Jesse. Or just McCree. Not a lot of folks tack the 'Mr' on there for my sake.” he said before popping one of the bits of sushi into his mouth. He actually did feel a lot better, shockingly so.

The sushi went down easily. It was so good, especially with the orange dip that Hanzo had included. Jesse coated each piece with it. It was so creamy and delicious, he kept trying to place the taste but couldn't quite place it. He knows that by the last bit of sushi he was scrapping the remaining sauce from the container just to taste more of it.

He was reaching for the “korokke” when Hanzo grabbed his wrist.

“The curry first.” he suggested, nodding to the rice that McCree may have been avoiding a bit. “You will need a palate cleanser after, and the potatoes will do better than the stew.”

After Hanzo's insistence, Jesse made a bit of a face. Hanzo narrowed his eyes, clearly sensing something was off.

“You do not like spicy foods.” he guessed. Jesse shook his head.

“I like 'um fine, actually.” he said. “My stomach, though...”

He moved his hand to the ball of a belly all this food was beginning to form. He wanted to put the rest of it in there. He wanted to feel how big and heavy just one full meal could get him.

“It riles up. Bloat up an' get a touch gassy.” McCree admitted, cheeks flushing.

Hanzo nodded and gave a patient sigh.

“You should have told me.” he said. “Though I suppose I should have asked.”

For a moment, Jesse felt his heart sink in his chest. He imagined, for just a second, that Mr. Shimada was going to toss him out for this.

“Many of the competitions involve spicy food. Particularly the winter events. We will have to train you extra hard to make up for your deficit.” Hanzo continued, either not noticing or politely ignoring McCree's relieved sigh. “In the meanwhile, save the curry for last.”

Jesse glanced over to study Hanzo's face, not sure if he should take his coach at face value or not. He didn't care for the idea that Hanzo might be pulling punches for him, but he didn't tell him not to eat the spicy food.

“After your meal, you will rest again, and we will tend to whatever upset occurs.” Hanzo continued, nodding to the fried mashed potatoes. “Go on.”

He didn't need to be told twice. Despite how full he was, Jesse wanted to prove to his trainer that he'd made the right choice. He was going to work hard and power through it, even if things were difficult. Which... right now, they were. The rest of the meal, sans curry, was still an uphill battle. Hanzo had been right. It didn't take a handful of hours, but the stew was rich and filled to the brim with just about everything Jesse could imagine. At least it was still warm when he ate it, but it was an entire pot.

“Nngh...” Jesse groaned, trying to rub his stomach the way Hanzo told him. The problem was, it was hard to 'push the food down' when there was no down left. His stomach was so bloated it actually pulled a little on the buttons of his shirt. “I... reckon it's time for that curry, then.”

He didn't hide the trepidation in his voice, but he still tossed Hanzo a playful smile as he said it. For his part, Hanzo continued to carefully observe, and hadn't spoken up since they'd discussed the spicy dish. At that rate, he also hadn't picked up that tablet, either. He'd watched Jesse like a hawk the entire time.

Since Hanzo had been so still for the majority of the meal, beyond the instructions for massaging his stomach, Jesse froze as Hanzo stood up and moved to stand behind him. He thought for a second that the man was getting up to use the restroom or something like that, but instead his trainer knelt down to one knee and moved his hands around the chair- around Jesse- and up his shirt.

Thanks to his substantial tummy bloat, there wasn't enough room in his flannel to fit hands underneath, but that did not deter Hanzo in the least. He just pushed the cloth up and over Jesse's stomach so his fingers could rest directly on Jesse's swollen middle.

“Keep eating.” Hanzo instructed. He was so proper about all of this, meanwhile Jesse's face was as red as a cherry. He supposed he would have to get used to it.

Jesse wanted to say something snarky, but the serious demeanor Hanzo put off made him think better of it. Besides, the longer he put this off the harder it would be. He started to shovel the curry down his throat, eating recklessly just to get it down. He didn't mind the taste, but he worried about when his stomach would start acting up.

Jesse had only been able four hefty spoonfuls into the dish when his stomach made it apparent that it would not be taking this well. A low, ominous groan echoed from within his belly, and Jesse could feel it quiver lighting in Hanzo's palm. Jesse only hesitated for a second before taking another two big bites, doing everything he could to finish before he started bloating up.

“You were not exaggerating.” Hanzo noted. “I can feel your stomach inflating... that isn't a bad thing, at this stage.”

Another low groan and Jesse curled inwards, only to feel one of Hanzo's hands leave his stomach and move to pull his shoulders back. McCree didn't fight it, sure that Hanzo was right that he should keep his back straight for some reason, even if he wanted to double over and cup his tummy more than anything.

“Feels.... urp... kind of like a bad thing.” he admitted, putting the back of his hand to his mouth to mask his belch. “S'cuse me.”

“You are increasing your capacity. Little by little.” Hanzo assured, his thumb pressing in just above Jesse's belly button and forcing up another pocket of air. Jesse gave a small grunt from the pain, but it felt a little better to relieve the pressure. “Go on.”

Another few bites and Jesse started hiccuping between them, along with the groans and grunts. Despite the last run of his meal being particularly louder and more uncomfortable, Jesse managed to finish it and slammed it down on the table, collapsing back into the chair with Hanzo's hands still caressing his bubbling stomach.

“You did very well.” Hanzo said, patting Jesse's stomach gently. The mans voice was soft and filled with empathy as he moved around Jesse, hooking his arm around the man. “On three. One. Two.”

Jesse closed his eyes tightly and forced himself to stand, his stomach letting out another loud gurgle as the food inside of him shifted.

“Very good.” Hanzo said, even though he was the one doing most of the work and Jesse knew it. “Slowly.”

Heeding Hanzo's words, Jesse hobbled forward towards the living room. As they reached the couch they both sat. Hanzo was clearly attempting to make it slow descent, but McCree's center of balance was thrown off too much and he ended up falling the last foot or so. He let out a painful-sounding grunt as both he and Hanzo fell to the couch.


	3. Chapter 3

 “Dag-urb-nabbit!” Jesse groaned as he settled. Hanzo seemed to pay little attention, though a small smile crossed his cheeks as he lead Jesse to lie down.

Jesse was too stuffed and miserable to notice how Hanzo was positioning him as he moved to lie down. The excitement that came from finishing the meal was still there, but dampened slightly by how sick to his stomach he felt. He closed his eyes and focused on taking full breaths between the small belches and hiccups, because that felt like it helped a little. It wasn't until his head landed on something soft and warm that he recognized what was happening.

“I can fetch you some medicine if it becomes too much to bear.” Hanzo offered in a low whisper as Jesse was processing that his head was in the mans lap. “But if you can take it, it is better to put up with it for now.”

Jesse nodded quickly, thinking to himself that he would put up with just about anything to be able to stay right where he was. Hanzo's hands felt wonderful against his bare stomach, pooching out from the heavy meal he'd forced down it. Beyond the fact that McCree didn't want to take medicine because Hanzo insisted that this was better for him in the long run, anything that would make the other man pull away had to be off-limits.

It had been a long while since anyone had doted on him. A long, long while. Let alone when he was sick. He gave another small groan and belch, squirming in Hanzo's lap. From an outsiders view, they would be hard pressed to draw the line between 'legitimately sick' and 'begging for attention'. Either way, Hanzo seemed generous.

“I was right in deciding to train you.” he said, able to sense how much the praise had meant to Hanzo earlier. “You have motivation.”

Jesse smiled, and tried to push his stomach out into Hanzo's palm further. He only managed to arc his back a bit more, as his stomach was too full for a deep breath to make much difference.

“Y'mean that?” he asked. “Cause... hic... I feel kinda like the food -urp- won this time...”

“It will feel like that most times.” Hanzo assured with a soft smile. “You will get used to it.”

This time when Jesse squirmed to get more comfortable he felt his heart skip a beat. This was nice. Hanzo was nice when he wasn't as professional and proper. His hands felt amazing- probably years of practice. His thighs were soft and warm, too. As Jesse turned his head slightly, however, he noticed something odd about Hanzo's middle. Mostly, that it was... firm, but in a strange way. Not muscles. More like... dense. Packed in.

A corset? Girdle? That's what they called it for men, wasn't it? That explained some things, like how Hanzo seemed pretty ample everywhere but his stomach. Even so, it seemed like an odd choice.

“Mr. Shimada?” Jesse asked, his brows knotting together. “Are you...”

He hesitated for a moment, realizing that the question was somewhat personal at the last second, but now he was too deep in.

“Are you wearing a, uh... corset, or some such?” he asked.

He tried to keep his smile easy and the lilt in his voice pleasant, so it didn't sound judgmental. Outside of competitive eating, there was still stigma around weight in general. The same one that had been around for decades. It lightened up a little once MLCE Champions started appearing in magazines and people started to slowly but surely express desire in their 'type', but it wasn't universal, just like anything else. Maybe Hanzo was self-conscious?

Which would be a easy guess to make, considering how red the mans cheeks became at the question.

“I, er... I don't wanna be too friendly or nothing, just...” he said softly, studying Hanzo's face. “Just that, I can kinda feel it, is all... Wouldn't have noticed, otherwise.”

Hanzo leaned back to keep Jesse's cheek from touching the front of his vest and glanced away quickly. However, he didn't move to stand or snap at Jesse for crossing a line, so that was good.

“I am.” he responded, seemingly after debating whether or not to deny it in his head.

There was a silence then, and Jesse let it linger, waiting for an answer.

“It's personal.” Hanzo finally insisted. “But you needn't concern yourself.”

Jesse frowned. Hanzo didn't seem angry, at least. Maybe he closed off a little, but that was more than fair considering the subject matter. Even so, he allowed his worry to show even as Hanzo continued to rub his aching stomach. He let out a soft belch and tilted his head back. He was so hot and stuffed and gurgling...

“That's... urp... not quite fair, is it?” he asked, actively trying to distract himself with conversation. Besides, this is the first time Hanzo's really talked to him like a human. Best to keep it going. “You know I was in jail... ngh... Ain't that personal?”

Hanzo looked to consider this for a moment before giving a small nod, though Jesse caught that his cheeks (they were chubby, up close. He'd thought so, but from this angle he could see the almost double chin that the man’s facial hair was hiding) were pinking up again.

“I suppose you know... I was a competitor. You are the first champion I am training since returning to the company.”

Jesse hadn't known the second half of that, though the first half was no surprise, given the scant decorations around the apartment.

“I did not succeed as a Champion, so the body I had built for it is unnecessary.” he said solemnly. “It is also a very... stark reminder of my failures.”

The look on Hanzo's face was heartbreaking for Jesse. Not because it was sad, but because it was so incredibly clear that the man was controlling every muscle to keep from looking sad. He was stern and stone faced, but his eyes were wistful. Jesse wanted to reach out and tend to him somehow. The same way Hanzo was tending to his aching stomach, but he couldn't think of what to do.

“... What happened?” he blurted out. He could have kicked himself after, but it spilled out of him as easy as anything.

At the question, Hanzo's eyes gave away a bit more emotion. Regret, it looked like.

“I was good. Not... top level, but I believed I could get there, and so did my coach.” he said, refusing to look down at McCree while he told his story. “One day I was in a competition, and... lost, horribly. I felt as though I could not catch my breath.”

He looked to Jesse's stomach, which was still bubbling and groaning through the meal he'd consumed. He'd pushed the mans shirt up enough to see Jesse's rib cage, and then the bloated tummy beneath it. His hands slowed to try and be more comforting rather than helping digest the meal.

“I will teach you the techniques, but it goes without saying that breathing is particularly important. In any sport.” he said. “I... hated myself for failing, but tried to push harder. Even during training I did not improve. We thought it was just the failure weighing on me, until one night I woke up, unable to catch my breath even in sleep.”

Jesse's face was stone now as he watched Hanzo intently. The coach closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.

“My father smoked for the majority of my childhood. I swallowed that smoke, and it damaged my lungs. The physical toll of the sport tested the strength of my body and my body failed. My lung collapsed.” Hanzo continued softly. “It's... better, now. A small comfort.”

There was a beat of silence in the room as Jesse tried to think of what he should say.

“It wasn't your fault.” Jesse said softly, trying and failing to meet Hanzo's eyes. The man was being stubborn, but that was okay. He was still rubbing his stomach, at least. “That's some comfort, too.”

He was starting to feel a little better, though he wasn't about to say that and potentially end the contact Hanzo was giving him. It had been so long since someone's hands were on him and they weren't trying to hurt him.

“I mucked up my own life pretty darn well.” he admitted with a sly smile. “So you shouldn't beat yourself up over something you couldn't control.”

Hanzo finally met his eyes, and Jesse spotted the fact that they were hazel. He'd only seen them from far away, and they were dark enough to look almost black.

“I had my assistant look into your arrest. I wouldn't say it was entirely your fault.”

Jesse laughed, though it came from a place of awkwardness. Of course Hanzo already knew. He probably pulled up half of Jesse's life on his tablet already.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, glancing up at Hanzo. “How'd ya figure that? Seems pretty black and white to me.”

Hanzo didn't seem to see the humor in Jesse's reaction and his hands still on the mans stomach for a moment. Thankfully only a moment, though. Once he started again he spoke up.

“You were arrested for soliciting, which is a misdemeanor.” he said softly. “You were only sentenced because you had a record for theft. Stealing food, and clothing... That was after running away from your foster parents when you were fourteen, and then again at sixteen.”

It wasn't as if McCree hadn't heard all this listed in a row before, though usually it was his defense attorney or parole officer, someone who was basically a stranger. Suddenly lying on his back with his shirt rolled up was the least of his vulnerability. He shifted and looked away, his cheeks flushing slightly.

“I apologize.” Hanzo said. “I needed to know, before I could finish the paperwork.”

“Nah, nah... makes sense.” Jesse said. “Guess it paints a picture. Did I get ya in trouble with your bosses?”

“It is not a problem.” Hanzo assured.

After tending to Jesse for a bit longer the conversation lulled into a soft, steady flow. The hot topic of their respective pasts set aside instead for idle questions like movie preferences and hobbies. Jesse confessed his love for westerns and sci-fi, Hanzo admitted to be a fan of fantasy and period pieces, though he said he didn't have much time for movies recently.

After some time had passed, Hanzo finally gave Jesse's shoulders a pat while he was yawning.

“You are tired and full.” he pointed out, starting to stand up. He was careful to not let Jesse's head fall back too hard. “That is a good thing. Come. Time for bed.”

Jesse groaned. He felt comfortable with Hanzo now, the awkward period of getting to know whether or not he could act like himself in this relationship past. Hanzo was his 'boss', but they were equals as well. They depended on one another.

“Up.” Hanzo said, taking Jesse's hands and starting to haul the groggy, food-laden cowboy to his feet. “You want to get fat, do you not? You need to sleep after meals.”

Jesse nodded, exhausted but still feeling a heat across the back of his neck at the question. He leaned against Hanzo for the short walk to his bedroom. It felt longer with his full stomach. He felt his heart throb as Hanzo pulled the blankets back and set him in, pulling them over Jesse after. He was literally being put to bed, he realized, and it was nice to be doted on like that.

“Could get used ta this...” he admitted sleepily as Hanzo took his hat off and set it on the table beside him.

“You will.” Hanzo responded in his usual serious tone, either ignoring or missing the it was the way Hanzo was behaving, not his new 'schedule', that Jesse was referring to. “Try to sleep, it will help your stomach.”

The coach turned off the lights on his way out, though Jesse nearly missed it as he drifted off, both hands clasped over his bloated belly.

 

Jesse wasn't used to afternoon naps, but he took to it like a fish to water. He didn't wake up on his own, but rather a cheerful, whispered voice to the side of his bed.

“Hey.” the voice said, and there was a nudge to Jesse's arm. “Cowboy. Time to roll. Dinner's up.”

Jesse blinked open his eyes and glanced over to a man who was distinctly not Hanzo-shaped, though the room was still dark so he couldn't quite make him out. He could tell he was on the shorter side, and slimmer. Once he was sitting up the man flipped the lights on and he got a better view. That view included a smile so bright and genuine Jesse felt almost blinded by it, and a garish neon-green tank-top that finished the job.

“Mornin' sleepy head.” the man said, giving him a little wave. “Mr. Shimada is waiting for you in the kitchen.”

Jesse nodded and pulled off the covers, forgetting for a moment that his shirt had been rolled up after lunch. Thankfully for him, it fell back down as he sat up, hiding his middle again. He let out a soft grunt as he stood.

“Still... feel a little full from lunch.” he admitted to the stranger, assuming he was the assistant Hanzo had already brought up so many times. “We haven't met.”

“Ah, right, yeah yeah.” the other man said, offering his hand. “Sorry. Feels like I know you already, with all the paperwork and Mr. Shimada describing you so much. I'm Lucio.”

“Jesse.” the cowboy said, giving Lucio's hand a shake and then reaching for his hat. Once he met Lucio's eyes again, he saw the man was shaking his head, incredulous.

“I swore Mr. Shimada made that up, but there it is! Like a real-life cowboy.” Lucio said, sounding nearly overjoyed as his eyes moved down to the flannel and then up to the hat. “Alright, c'mon now. Can't keep boss man waiting.”

They followed the scent of food to the kitchen, and Jesse wasn't surprised to see another spread. This time the food was more familiar. Hanzo was in his usual seat, and Jesse could hear more cooking from the kitchen.

The most that Jesse was able to get out of Hanzo was a small nod, and the shift in mood was very apparent. Hanzo was stiff again, looking as posh as he had the first time he watched Jesse ate.

“How long was I out?” he asked as he rubbed the back of his head.

Hanzo checked his watch (who wears a watch anymore?) and brushed his hand over the back of his neck. He seemed almost awkward, but a composed sort of awkward.

“About three hours.” he responded in a soft voice.

Meanwhile, Lucio buzzed around, rushing from the kitchen back into the main room. He overheard him talking to someone in the kitchen, both of their voices seemed to... carry, to say the least.

“You holdin' up alright?” Jesse asked. Hanzo glanced up, seemingly suspicious of the question, so Jesse elaborated. “You seem stressed.”

“You are mistaken.” Hanzo said sharply, moving his eyes back to his tablet just as two figures came back into the room.

One was Lucio. Familiar, small. The other, who Jesse had to assume was the chef, was massive. Not fat, like someone might expect, but tall, and absolutely ripped. Jesse couldn't keep his eyes from widening as he made his way in, carrying a tray that the cowboy knew, logically, must be big, but... it looked small, next to this man.

“Ah! There's our new champion!” the man bellowed. He was older, Jesse could see that now. He'd been distracted by all of it- the pecs and arms, mostly, which he showed off with a tight tank top. “Skinny little thing, for such a big job! Han- er- Mr. Shimada, are you sure he's up to the task?”

The question was good-natured, but Hanzo himself barely reacted beyond a small nod.

“I'm only skinny for now.” Jesse insisted with a self-depreciating laugh. “I can eat. Mr. Shimada's seen it.”

“I'm sure you can. And you must!” the man said. “Or a strong wind will blow you away! Come. Sit. Eat.”

Jesse blinked, nearly drowning under the larger mans strong personality, but sitting and eating are two things he can do in most situations, so he got started.

The muscled man left Jesse to get started on a huge plate of spaghetti and meatballs before he came back carrying yet another platter of mashed potatoes. The trays weren't huge, but they were larger than typical dinner plates. It was still daunting.

“I'm heading out, sir! Got class.” Lucio said as he slipped into a windbreaker that was just as bright as his shirt. “Oh, I set up the meeting for you two on Thursday, and you have a phone interview with Foodstuff Monthly tomorrow afternoon. One-thirty, so Mr. Cowboy will be down with the itis.”

He was nodding to Hanzo, who gave a soft hum of acknowledgment before Lucio rushed towards the door.

“See ya cowboy! Enjoy your dinner.” he said with a chipper grin, giving Jesse an encouraging slap to the arm. “You're gonna have to pack it on if you want to play with the big boys.”

Jesse felt that familiar heat on his neck but chose to ignore it, stuffing a big bite of pasta into his mouth to force back the feeling. He gave Lucio a small wave as the man ran out of the room.

“Dessert is almost ready!” the chef called from the kitchen.

“Dessert?” Jesse asked.

“Don't worry. It will need time to cool.” Hanzo said, again without looking up. “Don't rush. Just eat.”

Despite Hanzo's assurances, Jesse felt slightly nervous. He swallowed a large serving of mashed sweet potatoes and glanced up. He wished the Japanese man would at least look at him, but Hanzo was closed off. It was strange, Jesse didn't imagine that he'd miss being stared at, but he did.

“Mr. Shimada?” he asked, trying to get the man to look up. It worked, Hanzo did raise his eyes, but he didn't turn his head. “Y'sure I can fit all of this on top of lunch? I just... I still feel full, and this is a lot of food.”

He felt nervous admitting as much, and the fact that Hanzo barely even twitched as a result made him even more anxious.

“You'll be fine. We will take our time.” he said softly, taking a sip of tea. “Focus on what is directly in front of you, don't raise your eyes to the rest of it until you need to refill your plate.”

McCree nodded, clenching his jaw. Hanzo's words were logical enough, and he knew the other man was right, but he was still nervous. He moved to press his hand into his stomach, which was still bulging out from his last meal. He needed to grow, after all, and this was a part of it.

He finished the potatoes. Then the pasta. Then a ridiculous amount of buttered rolls, and a serving bowl of steamed vegetables. During the meal the chef came back through and informed Hanzo that dessert was cooling. He gave Jesse a pat on his shoulder that nearly shook him out of the chair before taking his leave. When Jesse finally finished his meal, he was breathing heavily again.

He squirmed in his seat. Thankfully his clothes weren't too tight, but he could feel the buttons stretching on the shirt Hanzo had bought for him. It was odd that he didn't buy clothes with more stretch to them. Just as he was thinking as much he heard the coach get up and pull out the chair next to him.

After he sat down he leaned forward and began unbuttoning Hanzo's shirt, freeing his overstuffed stomach. It was small, but if someone were to look at him right now they might've guessed Jesse had a little soda belly dusted with a short happy trail leading bellow his stretched belly button. Unfortunately they both knew it was just food- for the time being.

“Deep breaths.” Hanzo instructed as he cupped the bloat, pressing his thumbs into the top and pressing down. “You are doing a decent job. Most competitors start off much worse.”

Jesse offered a shy smile. Somehow the unbuttoning phased him more than when the man just pushed his shirt up. He hiccuped and let his head lull forward, closing his eyes as the skilled hands worked magic on his stomach.

“You're really good at this.” he said, and Hanzo gave a small huff.

“I've had much practice. You will be able to, as well.” he promised. “Now. Dessert is in the other room, and you will be eating it in it's entirety before going back to sleep. You have an early day tomorrow, I suggest we get started.”

He was standing before McCree could come up with a response, and within moments a huge chocolate cake was set in front of him and he let out a pained-sounding groan.

“I'm going to explode...” he said, shaking his head.

“Red wine chocolate cake is one of Reinhardt's specialties.” Hanzo said, brushing off Jesse's concerns. “Here, it will be easier if I feed you.”

Again before Jesse could think he watched Hanzo take a fork from nearby and pluck at the corner of the cake.

“Guess there's... not much of a point to slices.” he said, giving a soft chuckle.

Hanzo did not hesitate, and brought the fork right up to Jesse's lips. He took the bite, slow and deliberate, both hands cupping his stomach. His eyes focused on Hanzo. The man was still stoic, but he seemed to be more himself than he had been with Reinhardt and Lucio nearby.

“How is it?” the Japanese man asked, moving to set his free hand on the center of McCree's stomach.

“Pretty damn good.” Jesse had to admit. He belched into his fist and licked some frosting from his lips. There was not much time for talking before the next bite was pushed into him.

No matter how good the cake was (and it was good), Jesse only had so much room. Hanzo fed him at a faster pace than Jesse would have been willing to feed himself. The cake was heavy, just like the meal, and he felt like he would never be able to stand again when they were only half-way through.

“Nngh... It hurts.” Jesse admitted. He still took the next bite offered, and he caught the way that his coach smiled at him as a result. There was pride in his eyes, and Jesse caught it. “I'm... doing alright, though?”

He knew he was, but he really enjoyed hearing it.

Hanzo gave a soft hum at Jesse's question, his eyes seemingly studying the other mans face for a moment before he brought the next bite to his lips. McCree did not begrudge Hanzo for not offering praise to him, even though he was begging for it. It didn't hurt to ask, though.

 


End file.
